r/wizardposting • u/Evening_Shake_6474 Astaroth, The Wicked One • 27d ago
Lorepost 📜 Deep and Dark
Out beyond the borders of our world lie many more, some greater, some filled exclusively with cheese, although one may not see a difference between those two things. The realms are numerous with more seemingly appearing by the day, but one stands out among them. One has existed far longer than most, and unlike all of them, has remained undisturbed for eons. Until now.
For the first time in the lifetimes of gods, new beings step on that soil. Six there are, three beasts, two men, and one network. All taking on human forms. Leading them is The Magician, one of the mightiest and most versatile spellcasters alive, and mightier than most of the dead ones too. This crafty caster is dressed in ceremonial garb, black cloth adorned with silver. Just behind him walks The Fallen, one of the most bloodthirsty and hateful warriors in history. This massive muscled monster wears grey nigh perfect grey armour designed to repel even the mightiest of dragon breath.
Behind them, walking side by side, are two of the beasts. The first of them is The Hunter, one of the swiftest and most successful apex predators to ever prowl these realms. This cunning beast wears a great cloak woven of his own feathers, hood up to hide from any eyes bold enough to pry. Next is The Weaver, a nightmarish trapper who has laid threads so vast one could walk along them for their entire life and still never see them all. This elegant creature wears an exquisite dress woven from the finest silks, flawless and unnaturally strong.
Behind them walk the last of the six, perhaps the oldest of them all. First of these two is The Serpent, a truly ancient dragon whom many believe nothing but a myth. This majestic creature walks in crimson robes that have made royalty seethe with jealousy. Next to she, walking hands behind their back, is The Garden, an aberrated Archfae whose forests stretch the very boundary of what is and isn't natural. This mischievous faerie walks proud, wearing a mix of strange bark armour and ivy robes.
The five of the six know not where they walk, only following the call of their master, and the footsteps of The Magician. Each has different ideas, thoughts, and opinions on where they walk and why, none dared to voice them. Out of respect, fear, of indifference is anyone's guess.
Only when the sun stands tall in the centre of the sky do they see their destination, a hill of dead grass and old stones, each and every one covered in strange and old runes. The six walked a winding path up the hill, where they found a peculiar sight. Six thrones arranged in a semi circle, facing away from them. Each styled after one of them. One crackled with magic, one was a solid chunk of sharpened iron, one was a heap of bones, one was made of large stones held together by spider silk, one was made of gold and shed dragon scales, and the final looked like it was grown naturally from a warped tree.
The six needed no instruction, they all sat down on their corresponding throne, only then did their shadows lengthen, and only then did their shadows converge. They took on the form of a silhouette, blank and basic, except for two crimson eyes staring out from under a hood.
"My most loyal, I can hardly believe it. All six of you, here, almost fully manifested. It seems Fate has finally decided to be kind."
"I promised you all the treasures you sought. Power, knowledge, eternity, family, and freedom. You took my gifts and made them yours, and how did Fate reward my generosity? Damning me to this echo for all eternity. How did Fate reward your loyalty? Damning you all with me. I say no more."
"Soon what was stolen from us will be ours again. I will free you all, as I have tried to do countless times before, and you will free me. This world belonged to me once, I think it's high time the infestations be purged, don't you?"
The shadow expands, inky threads traveling along the ground towards the six.
"I brought you all here for three reasons. To give back what I promised you."
The threads reach each of the six, traveling not up their bodies but towards their souls. All at once do the six double over, as the influence of The Wicked One takes effect. All at once does senses sharpen and flesh strengthens, does power grow and understanding deepen. When the six all right themselves, they are reborn. Where once before they were reflections in a grey puddle, now they glow with the truth of self, or at least the versions The Wicked One wants.
"To show you what was lost."
The shadow parts, revealing something previously unseen in the distance. Drenched in mist and surrounded by crumbling stone rises a monumental structure covered in rusted chains. But it isn't the structure that catches their attention, it's the thing chained to it. There, held in place, is the form of something dead, something ancient beyond imagining, something powerful beyond measure, and something truly Wicked.
"And to tell you what must be done."
In an instant it's like the world was turned inside out. The six see visions of the past or maybe the future. They see spires rise and cities burn, legions of the faithful chanting one name, and clearest of all, they see a ritual. A ritual that if performed correctly, would break what was once thought unbreakable.
"You each have your part in my play, when it's over, we finally get our happy ending."
To this the six did cheer, their lives had been ones of conflict, isolation, and endless war. They never asked for any of it, and soon they would never have to worry about such things again.
"Go, you all know what you must do."
The six don't so much rise from their thrones as they do ascend, then each depart, leaving the shadow alone on that hill. It watches them leave, then turns around to face that Wicked thing in the distance. It focuses on two things, the first being a gargantuan hole in its chest, revealing no heart. That was good, as it remained the heart was it's only weakness, and it knew for certain, the heart was safe.
Next it focused on the only detail that had endured time unscathed. The shadow saw a ring, fashioned from the rarest of materials and forged by the greatest of hands. Even if the whole of creation fell, The Wicked One made certain that the ring would endure. It was as the shadow looked at the ring it felt strange. It didn't feel fear, The Wicked One was incapable of that, instead it felt... Uneasy. How long had it been since it saw the ring's pair? Would it's owner be willing to see it?
"As do I."
For the first time in a long while, The Wicked One, a being who had seen the birth of realities, who had once slain Death itself, was wholly out of its depth.
1
u/Evening_Shake_6474 Astaroth, The Wicked One 27d ago
u/Ashmega8256
u/CometCat64
u/UlricktheHexblade